


Deep Roads, Deeper Hearts

by EmmaVakarian_Theirin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, The Descent DLC, lots of fucking angst okay!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 20:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaVakarian_Theirin/pseuds/EmmaVakarian_Theirin
Summary: You told him you’d always love him when you broke each other apart.He told you all your power couldn’t change his heart when you used it to stop Corypheus’.He told you he always thought he’d die down here.You wish it was his worst lie.- - - - - - -Based on an AU created by @ma-sulevin on tumblr where Warden Rainier leads the Inquisition into the Deep Roads.





	Deep Roads, Deeper Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ma-sulevin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ma-sulevin).



> sorry in advance
> 
> apparently there's 60 words missing so if something seems missing, please let me know. i've been writing this for months and i'm going to scream if i have to read over it one more time

You told him you'd always love him when you broke each other apart. 

He told you all your power couldn't change his heart when you used it to stop Corypheus'.

He told you he always thought he'd die down here.

You wish it was his worst lie.

* * *

It was eerily quiet all so suddenly. She'd stilled her breaths to hear for the slightest noise, though the loud clash of metal hitting the ground a moment later hardly demanded it. The Inquisitor jumped at the noise and spun in the direction it came from, and her heart itself just about stilled from the sight before her. It was then when she realised this creature's weapon didn't merely pierce Thom's skin, but had shot right through him, the projectile poking out from both the front and back of his torso.

"THOM!" She screams, running to catch him as his legs finally gave way. How he was standing at all..

She slides to her knees as he collapses against her, his weight almost knocking her back before she manages to ease him back up with her hands, but she doesn't move them once he's balanced. She keeps him there, clinging to him like it's  _her_  life on the line.

He can't die, not after everything. Not when he's finally found his purpose in life. Not when, despite everything, they've found each other again as if it was meant to be. She was never one to believe in such fates – she always declined being the Herald of Andraste, after all – but this...? Did she really have to let him go because it was 'for the best'? As if any of this was any better than before?

"Thom, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" There's nothing any amount of poultices, potions or magic can do to help him, yet she blabbers her apologies over and over again as if it can undo this damage... undo  _all_ the damage. How did it come to this? Maker, why?

His head tilts up weakly towards hers and she sees the fire in his eyes has been quenched with the same sadness they carried for so long years ago, only this time there's a flicker of hope burning through.

"Love..." The word barely slips past his lips but it lingers loud and clear in her heart - it's a broken whisper, a question, a plea, a reminder... a goodbye.

* * *

Truth be told, she didn't think she would see him again. She thought he would become the lone warrior he presumed to be, protecting Thedas as a true Warden with no one to notice or care, as he would have preferred.

So it shocks her to discover the dashing Warden talking to Scout Harding is, in fact, her former lover.

The Inquisition had received word from Orzammar requesting aid –- earthquakes had collapsed both lyrium mines and seals blocking darkspawn tunnels. With Orzammar being a key provider for the Inquisition's lyrium supply and the Grey Warden's infighting, it was up to the Inquisition – or what was left of it, rather - to step in. Harding had been her contact through it all yet she never once mentioned there would be a single Warden working with them after all, let alone who that Warden would be.

He stops her in her tracks before he realises she's there, she hadn't even recognised him at first; his hair is half the length it used to be with streaks of gray sweeping it back, his beard now just thick stubble with patches of grey to match the hair, he's donned a full set of Warden armour... and he looks  _good_ , like he's finally been taking care of himself and is where he truly belongs. Her heart flutters at the thought –  _if_ he's feeling as good as he looks, then she's happy. It broke her heart when he left the Inquisition to join the Wardens, but it's what they agreed on, accepting that it was for the best. 

She hadn't been worried for him – well, not for his safety, he's more than proven he can fight on his own - but for his heart. He'd been alone so long before being thrust into the overwhelming forces of the Inquisition where isolation was difficult to come by, and suddenly he's to return to his old ways. How long would it take to adjust to that?  _Could_ he adjust? Or would he welcome it, removing himself from those that would see him hung instead?

It's not until Harding calls her name that she realises not only is she still staring, but he's also staring back, his mouth slightly ajar. 'Maker, how long's it been?' She asks herself as she steadies her thumping heart.

"Inquisitor! Turns out Rainier will be leading us through the Deep Roads. What are the odds?" Says Harding after finally getting her proper attention.

Approaching them to properly greet the two, she notices how different he looks in the face – there's more life to him with fuller cheeks, likely from eating better, more colour in his skin, faded stress lines, and even the dark circles around his eyes weren't as stark **.** But his eyes still held that sadness she's never quite seen vanish from them, even in their happier times. For a moment she wonders if that'll ever change, only to quickly shake the thought off, not wanting to dwell on it, but Maker, she hopes it'll change... somehow.

"I.. honestly can't say I was expecting this," She starts, attempting to regain her composure. She hardly needed to make appearances these days with the Inquisition having done its main purpose, so public speaking was becoming more of a memory when most of her communication was done via written word. Though with rumours flying around that an Exalted Council is in the works, she may need to get back into the habit and proficiently. "But it's welcome nonetheless." She adds, going to reach out her left hand to shake his before quickly changing to the right.

He glances to her hand and she silently begs he thinks nothing of the switch, but he's quick to take it and smile back at her, and Andraste preserve her, it still does things to her after two damn years. Perhaps because there's less hair in the way?

No, she's fooling herself to think such thoughts. She's studied his face long enough to recognise a smile without so much as a glance at his mouth. Seeing him smile was rare, she wanted to make sure she could see one when it was otherwise hidden from view.

"Aye, it's been a while... Marlah."

Hearing her name on his lips again sends a wave of warmth through her body and she could kick herself for feeling so--

Wait, did Harding say 'Rainier?' 

"I thought you weren't going back to that name?" She asks, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

"The Wardens don't take kindly to replacements of one of their own. Aside from that, it's..." He looks away for a moment, as if trying to work out how to word what he wanted to say. "... _easier_ to try fix things this way. They won't be, but that's why I'm here."

"Right..." She murmurs, painfully aware of why he's here. "So, I take it you're our guide today?"

"Guard, more like; now that I can sense darkspawn for real, we should get by them quicker, or be prepared for them, at least."

"Or avoid them. Avoiding them would be nice." Adds Harding.

He smiles again as he looks towards her with that wonderful huff of laughter she's missed dearly. "In the Deep Roads?  _E_ _asy_."

"Inquisitor, the workers are almost done building the lift to the Deep Roads. No darkspawn trouble yet, but the earthquakes have been brutal." She turns back to the Inquisitor, her face held in a more serious expression, now.

Focus. 

"I was told to meet a Shaper Valta."

* * *

She wakes with a gasp, heavy and dry. Jolts of pain surge from her palm to her elbow as the Anchor flares up in a burst of green. Not wanting to cause alarm and wake the others, if she hasn't already, she clenches her mouth shut as she scrambles to her feet with her unaffected hand and dashes behind a stone pillar in the darkness, clutching her throbbing arm tightly as she drops to her knees in pain.

This is the third time it's happened in two weeks. Something was wrong and no one had an answer for it, except maybe for Solas, but he was still unreachable. She knew he was disappointed the orb had broken, but she didn't imagine he would leave the Inquisition so quickly over it and not at least stay for the celebrations. Maybe he might not have been able to stop these bursts from happening, but he could have explained why they were happening or at least knew how to lessen the pain. Instead, she's reduced to helplessly hiding behind some grotty stone in a dark and dangerous pit to deal with it herself.

That is until she sees the glow of a torch approaching from behind.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

It couldn't have been one of the others that somewhat knew about it, could it? It had to be the one she desperately tried to hide it from, knowing her pain would hurt him just as much despite their time apart.

He stood tall, torch in one hand as the other readied to unlatch the great-axe from his back. His eyes inspect the area around them, seeking for darkspawn in the darkness before finally finding hers, and she's stumped for words. She doesn't want him to worry, but she truly doesn't know what's going on. How can she tell him?

That's when she remembers – he was one of the two to keep watch tonight while the others slept. It must have been his turn when she woke, meaning he saw it all unfold, which explains why he was braced for a fight so quickly.

There's no hiding it, then. And with their past, she shouldn't hide anything from him, anyhow.

"I don't know, it just... flares up without warning." Nothing changes when I use it for spells." She breathes, trying to keep the pain out of her voice. She looks away after her confession, not wanting to see how he would he react.

But the soft tone in his voice doesn't help when he asks, "Does... this happen often?" He lowers the arm holding the torch concern.

"Third time in two weeks." She states, her eyes staying focused on her throbbing hand.

"And naturally, you're taking it on by yourself." He moves to sit down beside her while keeping a mindful gap between them. Such gaps didn't matter years ago. How times have changed... or at least for him.

She thought he might just ask the basic questions and take his leave if there was nothing to be done, but she should know better. Even when there was nothing to say, with him, sitting in silence was never awkward, but comforting. Of course he wouldn't just leave.

"Yes, well... there's not much anyone can do. I'd rather go through it myself than have others feel helpless."

"Can't say I don't blame you..." She doesn't need to mull over the way he mutters the phrase to know he's thinking about that day on the gallows, how he wanted her to think he was dead rather than let her deal with his problems. "But that doesn't mean you have to be alone in this, does it? Helpless or no."

She smiles, then, genuinely. Despite everything, he still wants to be there for her just as she was there for him. She broke his heart, yet it remained as gold. She doesn't know anyone that could turn out the way he has. How could she push him away?

Her attention snaps to the pain in her hand. Though it has diminished, it's an easier ache to focus on.

"Does it hurt?"

"It... gets worse each time... and for longer. It's tolerable now, but..."

"It's not stopping." He sighs disappointedly.

She shakes her head. "What about you? How are the Wardens?" She changes the subject, not wanting to upset him any more than she already has as she forces herself to look at him – or in his direction, rather.

"Marlah, you--"

"Please..." He hates it when she tries to turn the conversation around and shrug of her own problems, she knows this, but she needs to know if he's doing okay. Maybe that'll be enough.

A stern look comes to show on his face while he sits quietly for a moment, probably debating what to say. "Things are in upheaval. There have been heated arguments about the future of the Order. I wouldn't be surprised if we tore ourselves apart."

This is not what she wanted to hear in the slightest. Tossing herself off the nearby cliff would be preferable to endure than hearing the sound of her hopes dying with each word.

"Yet, this life feels... right, like it's where I'm supposed to be. "

She looks at him then, not expecting such a comment. One question, then – one question and she'll have all she needs to know. "Are you happy?"

"All things considering..." He pauses for a moment, for what, she cannot say and doesn't dare to ponder it further. "I am... and I have you to thank for that."

With the one sentence, he's lit her spirits like a flame and snuffed them out.

"It's nothing to thank me for." She tries to tell him in a light tone but it instead sounded almost bitter.

"I have everything to thank you for." He, however, has hardly ever sounded so genuine.

Looking intently into his eyes at his soft words, she doesn't see sadness, but life. She's never seen them so bright before. They could be brighter, sure, but right here and now, he's happy, and that's what matters. That's what she wants, but she doesn't want to be thanked for it, not when it took utter heartbreak to get them here. She tries to distract herself from such thoughts and look away, but in the darkness of the Deep Roads, there isn't much to pretend to be focused on.

So she glances at what was once his beard, imagining this is what it looked like before Blackwall. She could ask how different it felt, if he wishes he hadn't cut it off. Instead, she's wondering if it would be tickly or prickly to touch, and before long it turns to wondering what it would be like to have her mouth on his just one last time – if it would be warm being more direct with his skin, be as passionate and full of life like it used to be, just as it would leave her mouth wet and wanting with the way his tongue would make love to her mouth on those cold nights by the fire--

"I should get back to my post." He says suddenly, fortunately breaking her from her thoughts... but perhaps too late as he quickly rises to his feet as if startled.

She'd been staring at his lips the whole time. Maker, what is wrong with her? Had she annoyed him? Did her ogling feel like an unintentional and cruel tease to him? He probably thinks she's playing games he wants no part of anymore. She's ruined it. She wanted these feelings to stop, but not like this.

She had no right to dream up such fantasies. She's the reason they're in this position to begin with, even if he says he's grateful, and regardless of whether or not he knew of such fantasies or even reciprocated them, it wasn't fair on him. This had to stop. It would kill her, but she has to remind herself he's here  _because_ of her, not  _for_ her. He told her from the start they were bound to their duties, that she couldn't afford to think he was special. Why didn't she listen? 

But before he leaves, he reaches a hand down in offering to help her stand – still the gentleman she... he's still the gentleman. Needing some time to shove her feelings down deeper than the cavern they were in, she tells him she'll come along shortly. "Yell if you need me for anything." He tells her as he hands her his torch and heads back to camp.

By the Maker, he'd be the death of her. This was going to be a long trip. Maybe if there was something to kill...

* * *

Not long enough, she regrets with all her heart.

"I love you, Thom. Maker, I couldn't stop!" She sobs before she takes hold of his face and desperately presses her lips to his, trying to make up for all their lost time, time they'll never have again.

And it's not at all how she imagined – it's cold, dry, desperate and almost lifeless, and this will be her last memory of it.

She's reluctantly pulling away to give him air when he coughs up blood all over, but she pays no mind to it. She doesn't  _think_ about it when thinking would waste fragile time here and now.

His breathes are shallow and hoarse when he tries to speak through the mess in his throat. "I thought..." He reaches for her hand, clasping it with all his strength. "I'd have to die  _before_  we'd..." He smiles weakly before his hand falls from hers, body pressing back against her while she holds him as close as her armour allows, burying her face into his neck as he sighs. 

"I'm here, I'm here..." She cries, never stopping or letting him go until her companions try pull her away, the cavern shaking violently around them while she remembers,

'He told you he'd happily die for you.'

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not really sorry this fucking HURT to write but it was too delicious not to. i love thom i swear
> 
> BONUS POINTS if you know what his last words are from


End file.
